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I guess we met a couple a bona-fide angels But they all seemed kinda fat and fatigued And now we're trying to match their mouths to the screens Match their heads to their dreams Everybody's searching out the softest seat All dolled up for the funeral feast Everyone's stabbing at the biggest piece Clever kids kissing on a bleak retreat Now I'm not really sure we were lovers Or if it was just some kind of car crash And now we're trying to find a DNA match To match their heads to their hats Everybody's reaching for the sharpest knife Legs wide open on the opening night Everybody's bathing in the laser lights Clever kids screwing with some new device Sunday morning, sidewalks flattered Feverish in stylish tatters Damn, this used to seem like grammar I remember when it mattered Can't get over what's transpired SongtexteLeft home virgins, came back vampires Built it out like back-scratched choirs Really dead or really tired Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody wants to suck on something sweet Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Aus Songtexte Mania